


Finished Business

by SusanBAnthony



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Other, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanBAnthony/pseuds/SusanBAnthony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don visits Betty when he returns to New York.  Post-finale- potential spoilers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finished Business

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done this before- hope I didn't make any major mistakes. Be kind.
> 
> Edited- I changed a typo that was bothering me

He had to buy a suit, off the rack, and have it fitted at Lord & Taylor as soon as he got off the plane. He felt comfortable in his uniform and the suit he brought to California had been run through washing machines too many times to salvage.  
Slipping his arms into the grey suit jacket over the stiff and crisp new white shirt provided a charge of energy he had missed during the past casual months. French cuff shirts were apparently out of style and not available without custom tailoring so his nervous habit of readjusting his cuff-links was replaced by compulsive unsatisfying button touching.  
The suit was the first stop and the second was Rye. It was a Tuesday morning and he knew if he stopped at McCann before seeing her he could be stuck at work either getting caught up or arguing to keep his job.  
It wasn’t until he stepped out into the sunny but chilly November morning on 5th Avenue that he remembered he didn’t have a car and would need to get a ride to Rye. Did a train run during the day? Where was the station in Rye? He thought about a cab but wasn’t sure how long he’d need it to wait and there was no way a cab would be looking to idle in Rye on one fare. He’d have to buy a new car. He hailed a cab directing the driver to take him to the nearest dealership.  
He must look like a type because they pulled up to a Cadillac dealership on Riverside Drive. Don paid the driver, using some of the last cash he had, and dismissed him. A half an hour later he was driving out of the lot in a 1971 black DeVille with a deep tan interior. Not as sleek as his last car which was silver blue with a red interior looking like a shark you could climb in and animate.  
He pointed the new car north up Riverside Drive, to 9A as if he were heading home to Ossining which was fitting. He allowed himself to slip back in time for a few minutes and fantasize about what could have been. Shouldn’t he be heading back to his beautiful home, his beautiful wife in her time of need? He merged onto 9 and quickly to route 1, traffic was light leaving the city mid-morning. It felt good to be driving.  
As he approached his turn off into the suburban streets he had his first thought of hesitation. What if Henry was home? What if she was in the hospital? He felt a heaviness in his chest as he realized she might not be in any state to welcome an uninvited guest. The last thing he wanted to do was upset their household by barging in with unnecessary emotional balloons trailing behind him and filling up their space.  
He pulled up outside the Victorian mansion on the street filled with bloated Gilded Age showboat homes. He titled the review mirror and ran a comb through his hair quickly although the barber had styled his neat hair and set it with hair cream only hours before.  
The house was so big it always appeared empty. All of the living happened in the back of the house, the front rooms were for passing through and Christmas only. Don rang the doorbell before he let himself think about what he would say if the situation was less than ideal. He listened as the long Westminster chimes played on in the silent house.  
A uniformed maid opened the door and invited him in.  
“Mr. Draper, how are you?”  
Maybe he should know her name but he didn’t, or he couldn’t remember it right now. He was grateful she recognized him, “Very well, thank you. Is Mrs. Francis….in?” He had debated saying ‘available’ but it seemed worse. He wanted to see her if she was in even if she wasn’t available.  
The maid hesitated, “She is, Mr. Draper, but she’s resting. Can I help you with something? The boys will be home in a few hours. If you want to wait I think I could make you lunch while you wait. No need for you to return to the city without seeing them.”  
He deeply regretted not buying a hat at the department store, his hands were awkwardly empty. He should have brought a gift or flowers or something.  
“Is Mrs. Francis…when do you…I came to see her.” Why was it so hard to just say, “Is she ever awake? How close to death is she?" He struggled to find the polite way to beg to see a dying woman.  
“Oh Mr. Draper, I think she’s awake but…” the maid made a face of disapproval drawing her mouth out in a straight line, “She is not going to want see you.”  
The sting of those words must have flashed on his face because she quickly corrected herself, “I mean that she’s not feeling her best. I’ll tell her you’re here. Wait here.”  
She headed up the enormous staircase, her thick rubber soled shoes silently carrying her up out of the entry way.  
In Betty’s bedroom, the shades were drawn, a TV on a rolling cart was pulled up to the foot of the bed but was switched off and Betty sat up in bed. She was in her nightgown still. It was more comfortable to keep the nightgown on all day because she was in bed more each day. The light in the room was brown and soft like the light inside a paper bag. She had her bathrobe on because it made her feel like she had made some effort to pretend like she wasn’t perpetually in bed.  
Loretta knocked quietly on the door and stepped in.  
“Who was at the door?” Betty asked before Loretta even stepped in the room.  
“It’s Mr. Draper. He said he came to see you. I told him you were resting.”  
A hot mix of anger, embarrassment, and excitement flooded over Betty causing her to swing her legs off the bed moving faster than she had in weeks.  
“Tell him I can’t see him. I don’t feel up to it. I’ll call him later.” She was standing by the time she finished her sentence. She was out of breath already. She glanced at the mirror.  
Loretta turned to leave. As she backed out the door she saw Betty pick up a brush off the vanity and smooth her hair.  
“He is quite insistent”, Loretta added knowing that Betty needed just the suggestion of urgency to set aside her flimsy refusal. Loretta stood still awaiting instruction.  
Betty looked in the mirror for a moment more, feeling around the vanity for something. She looked at her eyes- she looked tired. Her cheeks were sunken. She was grateful she had had her hair set the day before. She knew she looked sick- a sick person in her bathrobe in bed in the middle of the day.  
“Loretta, get my blue shirt dress out of the closet. He’s been away”, she explained, “he won’t leave until he gets his way.”  
Loretta helped Betty pull the dress over her head. It was too big but a cinch of the belt helped. The effort of standing and dressing were causing Betty to feel light headed. She sat on her fainting couch while Loretta found her shoes. Loretta kneeled down to slip the blue heels on Betty’s feet. Betty stood up and looked into the mirror over the vanity. She still looked beautiful but Betty could see that any glow of youth she had was gone forever. She looked like a poor replica of herself.  
She nodded to Loretta and they left the room together but with just a few steps Betty could not keep the shoes on her feet. The shoes slipped right off with every step. She left the shoes at her bedroom door. They stepped out into the hall and towards the landing of the stairs. Betty took four steps and had to stop. She leaned against the hallway wall, waiting to catch her breath, holding back her cough.  
“Mrs. Francis, let’s get you back to bed”, Loretta said as she took Betty’s elbow. Betty pulled her arm away and straightened up. There was a sofa on the landing of the stairs and she knew she could make it there, only a few steps away.  
“I’ll see Mr. Draper up here”, Betty moved slowly to the couch. Her chest felt prickly and hot as she tried to catch her breath. She felt a coughing fit coming on but willed herself to swallow that catching feeling. She didn’t want to be a hacking pathetic old lady greeting a gentleman caller.  
Loretta seemed reluctant to leave Betty and go down the stairs. It didn’t seem right to invite this man to come upstairs in this family’s home.  
Don stood in the entry way with no hat to fondle and no cuff-links to adjust. It seemed like hours that he stood there straining his ears listening for clues that Henry was in the house, or driving up. He didn’t know what he would say to Henry if he was discovered standing in their home. He felt he was violating a sacred space. A private space filled with private sorrow reserved for family only. Don was intruding on this family’s intimate emotions. But it was his family, and his wife that he wanted to see.  
Don prepared himself for the worst when Loretta started to lead him upstairs. If he was being invited upstairs she must be in terrible condition. He mentally deleted all of the things he wanted to say, the things he wanted to hear, he knew it was only going to be a husk of his young wife that he would say a quick good-bye to.  
But there she was, sitting prim and sweet on a couch at the top of the stairs. Her feet were curled under her in a juvenile way. She was thin and pale but as beautiful as ever. She looked like she had come back from the market moments ago. Don let himself think for a second, “Maybe this can be helped.”  
She didn’t stand up though, and when he stood in front of her he saw that she was frail in a way that caused him to keep his distance out of fear of harming her.  
Loretta disappeared back downstairs without saying anything.  
Don was tan, groomed, and dressed perfectly as usual. He was probably more vain than her and age was not taking its toll on him. Sometimes when she looked at him she felt like a man. Like how a man must feel about a beautiful woman- as if she couldn’t have any flaws. A fresh piece of fruit with not a single blemish. A perfect specimen. A perfect round and smooth peach doesn’t hide a rotten, bruised fruit.  
He didn’t know why he had come here like this. He felt awkward again,“I got back this morning. I came right here to see you.” That was such a stupid thing to say. Like he was some romantic hero returning to his sick lover. It had been weeks. She had told him to stay away, not to do anything rash or emotional that would upset the peace of her home with their children. She didn’t mean to hurt him but she had been brutally honest about the natural and bearable state of his absence. He hadn’t considered until this moment that she might be angry. He might be relieved if she was.  
“Don, you didn’t have to do that.”  
She was soft, and welcoming. It made him feel worse.  
“I did. How are you? You look good.” That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth.  
She smiled a strained smile and regretted agreeing to see him. He was going to pity her and try to talk her into treatment. He was going to try and fix things the way that men think they can- the way they channel their feelings. She thought briefly about being polite but her revulsion at the idea that she should have to sooth the well, the living, and make them feel comfortable took over.  
“The doctor say’s I’ll probably see Christmas but maybe not the New Year. I have some pain medicine but I’m getting weaker.” It felt good to be plain with him. It was too raw for anyone else in her life. She felt Don could take it. Or that even if it made him uncomfortable she didn’t care, she didn’t have to deal with his sadness. He would go back to Manhattan and take whatever bad feelings he had with him.  
Don shook his head. He knew that she wasn’t being dramatic, she was being honest but he didn’t want to hear it and he had no idea how to respond. And he didn’t know where to sit or stand- should he kneel? Every position seemed wrong but standing and looming over her was the worst. He pointed weakly to the spot beside her on the couch and she tipped her head toward the spot in agreement.  
He gently sat down, angling his knees towards her but trying to keep a respectful distance.  
“I guess we should talk about the kids”, he knew that talking about plans was his only legitimate reason for being there. “I understand why you want them to stay with William but we need to make a plan.” He fished around in his suit jacket interior pocket for his cigarettes and finding them pulled out the pack and pointed it at Betty.  
She let her feet out from under her and she swiveled toward him taking a cigarette from the pack gratefully. He lit her cigarette and then his own. He looked at her bare feet and knew she had gotten dressed to greet him. He knew she was dying and that he loved her and that he had no right to feel that way.  
Don continued, “I can’t give up the kids. I know why you think William’s family is better for them but I won’t give them up so we have to come up with a different plan, together.”  
Betty exhaled her shallow breath of smoke and touched her thumb to her forehead. “I know that Sally wants the boys to stay here with Henry but it’s not fair to her or Henry. Judy will be able to do things“, -  
“I said no”, Don interrupted. He felt impatient and he knew that she desired directness. “The boys should stay with Henry if he wants that”, it hurt to say it but he had promised Sally that he would support the idea of the boys staying with Henry. Besides, he knew Henry cared for his sons and that his sons loved and depended on Henry. “Sally’s at school and soon college and she can make her own choice about where to stay when she's home.”  
Don continued, “I’m going to be around more”, even as he said it he knew it sounded like every promise he had ever broken in the past but he meant it and knew she couldn’t know that. “I won’t let them be orphans. I’ll be at their school events, and I’ll come out during the week to see them. Or they can just come and live with me because I am their father and I am in their lives.” He was getting angry and possessive, his voice rising as he spoke. He stopped talking- this isn’t how he meant to say these things.  
Betty knew she was going to lose the fight because she wasn’t going to be around to enforce her wishes. She could have listed dozens of times Don had missed important moments with their children. An old part of her screamed about the jumbled mess of memories of Don abandoning their family for short and long periods of time, leaving her to attend to the children without any clue as to where he was or when he would return. So many lies, and he never had to pay for it. She knew Henry loved her children and she trusted that he would care for them as if they were his own. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to them without a mother but between Sally, maids, and inevitable new wives they would have women caring for them.  
“Of course I will support them financially no matter what”, Don continued his argument in support of his position but now Betty interrupted him, “Fine Don. If you all feel this way it’s what you’ll do anyways. “  
She sounded resigned but not angry. She was convinced and without ego had changed her mind. “You and Henry can talk about what you’ll do. You don’t need to bring it up with Bobby and Gene.”  
Their business was over. The plan was made as much as it could be now. Don should leave. He stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray teetering on a narrow stand next to the sofa and ran his open palms along his knees as he prepared to stand up. Betty reached her left hand out and laid it lightly over his right hand.  
“How was your trip?” her voice was hoarse but it had a knowing tone. She knew he took this trip as a way to run away from something. She could only speculate as to what got him running but there was a distinct satisfaction in not being the one left behind this time.  
He was relieved that she wanted him to stay. He didn’t answer her but took her little hand in his and relaxed towards the back of the couch moving next to her. He extended his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his body, grateful to rest there.  
They sat in silence for a few minutes. He thought about their life together. He remembered his joy when she agreed to marry him. He had collected her like a coveted jewel. She was so beautiful and so precious. She was a rich girl with manners and education –he was a dead dirt farmer’s son. Then he felt that he had crossed that accomplishment off his list, secured her as his family and took the luxury of family he never enjoyed before and ignored her. Panicky regret rose and set up residence in his chest. He could feel the words of confession and apology rushing to him.  
She enjoyed leaning against him. It was familiar but indulgent. She deserved this. She could hear Loretta moving around downstairs but they were alone. His scent was filling her up with memories and making her feel young again. He hadn’t changed in all these years a fact that typically irritated her. He stayed strong and handsome masking his cruelty and allowing him to float through life with constant opportunities to run away at the slightest sign of emotional turmoil. Today she didn’t have to worry about keeping that torch of bitterness alive anymore. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t fair or righteous, it just was.  
He kissed the top of her head as he swallowed all of the riotous thoughts caught in his throat. He felt his chin quiver and he steadied it on her head but he couldn’t stop the tears stinging his eyes from streaming down his face. Could she feel him crying? He thought again, he had no right. He knew he was really crying for himself, feeling sorry for himself and his mistakes. She had moved on and enjoyed the life she wanted and deserved and she had to get away from him to do all of that.  
She was thankful to rest with him like this and know that there wasn’t anything left to say. He knew not to talk about prayers or miracles or God’s plan. She closed her eyes as she felt his gentle kiss on her head.  
The sun streaming in from the hall window had leaned to the left, leaving long window pane shadows on the blood colored carpet in the darkened landing. He had no concept of how much time had passed when he realized that she had fallen asleep. She stirred slightly as he scooped her up and carried her back to bed.  
Her room, Henry and Betty’s room he reminded himself, looked like a sick person’s room. He laid her down and covered her lightly with the coverlet on the bed. She looked at him and gave him a weak smile as he nodded at her with the identical smile as he pulled the bedroom door halfway shut.  
He managed to let himself out of the house. He planned to return that evening to pick up Bobby and Gene for dinner but he needed to go to work if only to find out where his new apartment was. He focused on the task of driving, learning the new knobs and dials, making adjustments. But his mind kept slipping back to all the things he should have said or done today and all of the days before that.  
The city was in view when he realized that he would probably never see her alive again. He knew he had hard work to do for himself and his children. He thought of Betty and how afraid she probably was. It wasn’t his job now to tell her that everything was going to be okay. He pictured her beautiful, eager face as it was on their wedding day. He meant those promises that day. He meant the promises he made to her again today.  
He checked traffic in the rear-view mirror but saw his eyes looking back at him instead. He looked tanned and rested and afraid.


End file.
